Four hours, that’s how much time I tell myself I have in the morning to walk into Box Lake. I’ve been hiking into this upper mountain lake out of McCall, Idaho for over 57 years. It has been a spiritual place for me since the first time my father and I hiked it together when I was pre-teen. The word I used to describe the feelings in the early years was “magical”. It is amazing how a place can have such a strong impact on my life for so long. I’m reluctant to attempt to put into words the feelings, that to describing it can’t possibly capture the emotion.
My father took me into Box Lake for a multi-night camping adventure when he determined I was old enough to handle it. I can’t remember exactly how old I was. I don’t remember my brother with us on the first trip, but the three of us have been there together in following years. It was the first time I had ever walked with a back pack uphill carrying provisions for a couple days. I can still remember parts of that first trip vividly. I look up the trail and see my father waiting for me and thinking, “I can do this, and I don’t want to look like a baby, just keep moving”. I remember the disbelief I felt when I finally reach the area he is waiting, and he starts walking again, “what about me resting?” I’m confident I was too old by the time I took TJ in Box Lake to do that to him.
Later years, when I was allowed to drive, and could be trusted to venture camping on my own, my best friend Dan and I went to Box Lake. This was a trust that was given and not necessarily earned on my part. At sixteen my confidence on how much I could carry in that old military backpack far exceeded my ability and experience. That bottle of cheap wine that I hauled around all day long on my right hip bone, while lost, was an experience I never forgot. I insisted all day that I was not lost, I knew where I was, at least in my relation to my position on the planet, I just wasn’t sure where the lake was in relation to where we were. We spent the night up on the crest of a mountain over looking a lake, however, our intended lake wouldn’t have had boats on it. It turns out my first attempt leading someone with my hiking skills I crossed Lick Creek incorrectly just passed the “enchanted forest”, and lead us hopelessly up the wrong canyon. This allowed us the opportunity to be numerous miles to the south and looking down on Payette Lake. The next day we hiked down, following a stream that turned out to be Lick Creek and within 40 yards of where we were parked. After resting a few hours we were off again and spent the next night at Box Lake. I’m grateful neither I, nor the lake ever lost our position relative to each other again.
Over the years I have made the trip more times than I can remember. There was a time Dan and I hiked in, starting at the bottom at mid-night, tripping our way through the darkness. The early years of learning what would be nice to have at night around the campfire, and what just wasn’t worth the effort of getting it there were valuable experiences. The memories from all the combined trips started to create a spiritual realm in some part of my mind. How I described the feelings and emotions when I was younger as magical, I later understood as spiritual. Being led and pushed to keep moving by my father to keep moving, not thinking I was lost but not knowing the location of the destination, being too tired to continue because I loaded my pack too heavy but not being willing to turn back; all a foundation of life’s lessons.
Numerous sections of the hike have its own little fantasy for me. More notable are “bench rock”. A rock that is perfect to fall back on to take the load off and rest until enough energy returns to remove your backpack and grab the water bottle. It’s eerie how 50 plus years ago it was in a stand of trees, now many burns later, it doesn’t offer the shade it once did. Cougar rock, a place I can always envision a mountain cat of some sort sitting contemplating the pounce. The enchanted forest, this is an area that when I entered it would be uneasy. It was halfway into the hike and the area I went painfully in the wrong direction once. The hike prior to this point offers plenty of opportunity for steepness, and openness. When I would approach the haunted forest it would feel ominous due to the darkness from the thick stand of trees. Now, I realize my perception of this area was formed at a young impressionable age, but when the hair tickles at the back of my neck like I was being watched, I still felt weary in later years. In the earlier years looking for markings on the trees was necessary to find your way through to the trail on the northeast side. I don’t think there is any part of the trail at any point that isn’t well defined any more.
The next area is THE most peaceful place in existence for me. I’m certain I have spent at least a year of my life here, real and imagined. Whenever I have ever needed to be “somewhere else” this is the place my mind will take me – The Meadow. Those times in life when trying to learn meditation and someone would say, “imagine you are …..” The meadow is where I’m at. I have envisioned myself in a clear bubble just floating and bouncing around in this meadow for hours. I have physically slept in the afternoon sun here. For many years this is the reason for the hike, to stand in a place God made for me. [If it can be my God, it can be my place]. It’s obvious that the physical upward climb up is over when you reach this area. Walking a bit further and you are looking down at Box Lake. At this point, hearing the drone of a Cessna in the distance heading into, or out of the backcountry is as peaceful as hearing a loon on Golden Pond.
When I walk into the meadow the uphill is behind me, I can’t see the lake in front of me but I can tell it is an open canyon, and steep rock terrain on each side of this little meadow area. Over the years I would ceremoniously ask for permission to enter the meadow to walk across. It didn’t initially seem as important to know who or what I’m requesting permission from, as to just know that I acknowledge a presence of something greater than myself and know I’m experiencing a gift. When I read the book The Shack, by William P. Young years ago I knew it was divinely inspired because I knew where Papa’s shack existed in my life, it is in the southeast corner of this meadow, just up about 50 feet from that first group of rocks just right of those tall pines. It’s amazing how I could miss seeing that at first, but there is no way I cannot see it now!
Four hours, I’ve just spent the night sleeping in the truck at the trailhead. What am I thinking? I can’t sleep in the front seat of the truck and attempt what I’m about to do – four hours.
I haven’t been to my “happy place – the meadow” for years. I’ve wanted to, I’ve talked about it, I’ve almost planned it. I just couldn’t commit to it. I’ve been afraid, “what if you can’t make it, what will that mean?” I have been to Box with Dad, Steve, Dan and they are no longer here. And there where times I took them with me in my heart after they were gone. Heck, Dan loved the place as much as I did and asked before he died that I take some of his ashes, which I did many years ago. This is the place I’ve been yearning to physically stand for years, the place I knew I had to see and feel again before I die.
I’ve known I’ll have to do the hike in a day, there is no way I can carry enough provision to spend the night. That means I’ll have to leave early enough to get there and back during daylight. I remember being worried about Dad that last time he came. It was great with Dad, Steve and the kids. I’m sure Dad had his heart bypass before that trip.
I have not had much confidence in anything health related in some time. I’m very inconsistent, I’m either acting like I can do anything if I really want to, or acting like a 90 year old man whose heart is going to give out any time. Since the second heart attack and 6 stents I act like I want to be fine but I really want people to know why I can’t do some of the things I want to do, the way I want to do them. I act like I accept that I have limitations but I’m not going to let them slow me down or get the best of me. Honestly, I will agree with people when they tell me I look great, but deep down I feel fundamentally broken, my body betrayed me. Losing confidence in one area of my life has affected so many other areas. Since none of the stents made it past 3 years, and two of the 3 bypass grafts failed and the remaining bypass is 50%-60% blocked, stenting the blockage is not wise. My bodies proclivity to quickly build scar tissue around the stent to open up the arterial graph would be counterproductive. Besides, I’m pretty direct on my desire to not have my chest cracked open again.
I suspect the losing confidence is an age-related aspect. I’ve been questioning so much, even mentally. Not having the energy to do things, is probably proportionate to my not doing things.
Well, 4 hours, I got 4 hours going into the lake, 2 hours to rest and record with the drone, and 4 hours to come back out. And I truly don’t know how it’s going to turn out. I’m on my own, I won’t have anyone to whine to, except Bella. I told Jami I really wanted to do this on my own. I didn’t want to be “watched”, for the lack of a more ego neutral word. 8:01am I started up the trail. “This is not a race, this is not a do or die, this is let’s see what I’ve got”. It’s one step after another with a lot of memories and patience. It’s fascinating enjoying the memories at different parts of the tail that would come to mind. Like the time I was so hung over I just took a nap right there in a steep part of the trail where I slipped on some rocks and fell on my stomach. I awoke sometime later to people yelling if I was OK. Seems Max, my dog at the time, wouldn’t let them down the trial past me. I might have a challenged heart now, but I sure was challenging my liver in my 20’s. I entertained myself wondering if there were any good sitting spots I was missing. 3 hours left, doing OK, not thirsty, drink anyway. I do a lot of talking to dead people when I’m by myself. 2 hours left, halfway, I don’t think taking the trail from the meadow down to the lake would be wise. 1 hour left, “look at me, we are doing this”. No numbness, little chest discomfort but nothing unusual, pain in shoulder is only from the day pack. 11:47am, I think I am almost to the meadow, I think that is it right there! I definitely will not be going down to the lake. 12:01pm, My magnificent mind gave me a picture of my brother in his hiking hat, my father in a baseball cap, and even Dan was wearing a hat similar to my brother’s, they were all standing at the far end of the meadow, rather nonchalant like they knew I’d get there eventually. “Hello! I’m here, permission to enter pass the meadow sentinel rocks.” I felt pretty damn good and yes, I was having a spiritual moment. This is the place I’ve been yearning to physically be for years, the place I knew I had to see and feel at least one more time before I die.
I decided to step about 10 yard back down the trail and video walking back in again. This could be a peaceful place to sit down and enter an eternal journey if I were writing a piece of fiction. It truly seems this life of mine is not all about me and it’s definitely not over. As I step back, I see someone coming up the trail. A lady walking by herself, she looks familiar but my mind won’t register it is Jami at first. It finally comes together for me, as I’m having this profoundly spiritual moment in the most spiritual place known to me, my life partner is walking up behind me. I hadn’t seen her for a few days. She had been working in North Idaho. We spoke briefly the night before and she mentioned she was headed home, I expected her to be home. She stayed in McCall and followed me up.
At that point I forgot about video walking back in. In fact, I didn’t do any drone video since I forgot a patch cord for the drone controller. We quietly rested for an hour and 15 minutes and started the journey back down the trail together. And it took almost 4 hours to get back down to the trailhead.
I didn’t get down to the lake. While I felt I could make it down to it, I am extremely confident getting back up to the meadow and then back down the trail would not have been a prudent thing to do. I got to remember/relive a life time of memories of my Box Lake trail. I was blessed to spend time at a place I choose to believe my God created for me, and gave it to me over fifty years ago to keep in my mind and heart.
And, as far as this damaged heart of mine, well, – it let me have this trip and that is a hell of a gift, and it didn’t falter. If I can do this I can do far more than I expected. I will continue to push and pray – and be grateful.
Reminder to self: Yes, that is how a “God of evidence” works. Conscious contact.